


Behave

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Come Inflation, Dildos, Dom/sub, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foot Jobs, Inflation, Master/Pet, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Petplay, Riding, Self-Indulgent, Sex Toys, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Super self indulgent petplay fic with Pet!Swerve/Master!Reader
Relationships: Swerve (Transformers)/You, Swerve/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Behave

You've lost track of how many times you'd brought Swerve to the edge, only to deny him his overload. He was impulsive, needy, and hard to control normally, and with the amount of charge coursing through him now, he's even worse.

You couldn't even hold and cuddle him without him trying to grind against you or reach for your panels. He's a good boy, you know he is and you know that he wants to be, but you're really pushing his limits. And that's exactly what you want.

The neediness in his constant requiring of attention, the little bit of dejection in his face as you tell him that you're not going to let him overload that night, the rumbling purr of his engine as he presses up against you at every opportunity. It makes your spark spin.

Now, as he sits impatiently on the floor next to you while you have your meal, you can almost feel the charge buzzing in his frame when he leans his helm on your leg. His servos are trapped inside his mittens, if they were free it would be too hard for him to resist the urge to touch and hold you. One of your servos idly traces little invisible patterns along his plating, while your other one brings the energon cube to your lips. It's only when you look down that you see him gazing up at you.

"Is there something you want, darling?" You hum. His frame almost vibrates against your leg with his engine's purr. He bites his lip and looks down, shaking his helm sheepishly. He has a habit of that, keeping himself quiet and shutting down any thoughts he might have concerning asking you for something. Your servo slides down the side of his helm and you squeeze his cheeks and giggle at the adorable little grin that crosses his face.

“If you want something, you have to ask for it, baby. That’s one of my rules and you know it.”  
The smile drops from his face and you can see him mulling his wording over in his processor before finally looking back up at you.

“Can I- I want to… May I please suck your spike, Master?” His voice is so soft and sweet, it makes your spike try to extend in its housing. You adjust your legs, shifting them apart, then pet his helm.

“Of course, baby.” You remove your servo and let him eagerly crawl between your legs. There was nothing more endearing than the excited look he gives you whenever you allow him to use your frame.  
As soon as his helm is seated nicely at the crux of your legs, he starts kissing against your spike paneling, running his slick glossa over it and coaxing you into opening up.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you allow your panel to shift aside. Swerve pulls back just enough to let your spike pressurize. You feel his hot panting against each segment as it stiffens, and once your length is out of your sheath, he’s returning to laving it with attention.

He’s noisy and messy, oral lubricant coating his lips and chin as he makes out with your shaft before finally deciding to take your length in his mouth. He moans once his lips meet your pelvic plating and he feels the weight of your spike in his intake.

His intake contracts around your spike and he slowly pulls up, almost taking is lips off of you, before dropping back down. Every little sound you make is echoed and tripled in intensity by your little mini; you’d almost think that he’s enjoying this more than you are.

But that’s not possible. Having him tending to your spike with such enthusiasm and affection, there’s no place you’d rather be.

“Mmmh, good boy,” You sigh, your servo petting his helm and your thumb rubbing tender little circles into it when you allow your servo to rest. “You’re doing so well.”  
The moan that comes from him after those words leave your lips is far more desperate than any other he’d given you before. You nearly expect him to overload simply from this, though with how long you’ve been teasing him for, it isn’t that far fetched an idea.

"Okay, okay baby." With the heel of your servo on the front of his helm, you try to push him back and off of your spike, despite his whining protests. Though you notice that while he certainly does whine and put on his best puppy dog face, he doesn't fight back against your pushing.

"Nooo, no, please Master, please, I want your overload inside me," His voice cracks as he begs, looking up to your stern optics. His lips are slick, and you can see little smudges of your lubricant at the corners of his mouth. "I need you to overload inside me, please-" He cuts himself off with a needy sob. “Down my intake or- or-”

"Hush, baby," You almost chuckle at the display, and you'd find it endearing if your array wasn't calling for your attention. "You might get that tonight, if you’re good."

His visor lights up as he gazes at you.

“You want to be my good boy?” You stroke down the back of his helm, treasuring the way that he pushes up against it and nods. You stand up and lead him to the berth. The sound of his knee pads and mittens against the floor follow you as he crawls after you. As soon as your aft is seated on the berth, he climbs up to sit next to you. With a little chuckle, you saunter over to your toy chest, knowing that Swerve’s optics are tracking the way your erect spike bobs with every step. You root around in the chest before closing it with a slam that almost startles Swerve into toppling over. You turn and walk back to him,

"Here." Your servo holds out the thick false spike to Swerve. He takes it in his own servos, though covered with the mitts, and turns it over. It's heavy, and even though he can't truly feel all the little details, he does note the intense ridges along each segment, and the thick knot at the base of it, and the suction cup bottom.

"Suction it to the floor." You command, using your servo on his back to nudge him off the berth. He hops down willingly enough, visor bright as he looks up at you from the ground. It's a task for him to suction the spike to the ground without the use of his digits, but with a period of experimentation, he manages. By the time he does, though, you can see the blush across his face.

"What, are you embarrassed it took you so long?" You chuckle, rubbing the side of your pede along his side. "You looked adorable the whole time doing it, so I'm not mad."

He leans into your touch, lips pulled to a thin line to try to prevent his smile from slipping out. Though, he can't keep that facade up when you lean down and pet his helm with your servo. You love him up for a moment, servos running down his helm and squeezing his cheeks.

"You're too cute," You giggle, "I have something I want you to so for me. Frag yourself on that spike, and be a good boy and wait for your overload. Okay?" He nods and moves to lift his hips for the spike.

"What are you going to do for me, baby?" You ask to confirm.

"F-frag myself on this spike..." He mutters, almost worriedly eyeing the brutal looking thickness and ridges on the toy, "And be a good boy and wait for my overload."

"Good. You don't have to take all of it, if you can't."

Swerve is grateful for that, at least. Even when he fully raises himself up on his knees, the spike looks almost as tall as the length of his thigh.

His paws clumsily guide and tilt the spike until he can feel the blunt tip of it nudging at the soaked mesh of his valve pleats. He looks back up at you, and you nod and give him the go ahead. Slowly, he sinks down onto the spike, not making it a quarter of the way before his frame is wracked with shivers. You'd been teasing him for so long already, and the inching of the spike past his oversensitive calipers was agonizing. His vocalizer squeaked and he looked back up at you.

"Take as much as you can, baby. I'll tell you when I want to move on." You assure him. His own stiff, stout spike is straining, lubricant dripping down his shaft. You can tell that he's not far from his own overload, but that he truly does want to follow through on your instructions.

"What are you doing for me?" You ask.

"Mmmh- I'm gonna- ah! Be your good boy, n' I'm gonna wait for m-my overload!" He cried, feeling his charge rising despite him not moving on the spike. His calipers cycled down, trying to get more, trying to make him sink further down and take the knot into his valve. It takes him everything in his willpower not to give in and drop down on the spike to make himself overload.

"What a good boy I have," You muse, leaning down and giving him a kiss. He pushes into the kiss, allowing you to claim him. "Maybe after," You say, barely pulling away from him, "I'll let you ride my spike."

He moans desperately into you. He wants that more than anything, you'd disallowed him from using your frame not too long ago, but he is already needy for it once again. He longs to feel your spike making his abdominal plating bulge as your press up against his gestational chamber and claim him with your transfluid.  
"Please," He huffs, his hips rolling and gradually forcing more spike into his valve, "Please, please, I want you,"

"And you'll have me," You pull away and gently hold the side of his face, "If you're a good boy."

His engine hiccups and he restrains his venting as he sinks lower onto the spike. His paws rest on and press into the tops of your thighs as you sit on the berth, gingerly running your pede along his side. With a devious grin, you remove your pede from where it is to in front of him, giving Swerve no time to wonder what's happening before you brush it against his spike. He lurches forward, leaning onto your and crying out as his spike coats the top of your pede in lubricant.

With short, aborted little bounces he grinds on to the spike and humps your pede, his spike twitching against you. The charge monitor in his collar is hooked directly to your feed, and you can tell that he’s approaching that little line in the bar before he tips into overload. You pull your pede back and stand up off of the berth, but he pays no mind, far too busy chasing his climax until-  
Your servos grab under his arms and you easily pull him up and off the spike. His pedes kick out and he whines, squirming in your grasp.

“No, no! Please, I’m so close- I- Ah!”

You cut him off by throwing him onto the berth’s padding. He gets the wind knocked out of him by the collision and he doesn't have enough time to squirm and get away before you're pushing him to lay his front on your lap after you sit down.

"Master, I'm sorry, it was too much!" He cried out, writhing under your servo but not trying to get away. "I just- I couldn't stop, I'm sorry!"

"Oh, puppy," You tut, servo smoothing over his aft. He shivers in anticipation, you don't even have to tell him what's coming next. Though, this time, you decide to do something a little differently. You reach off to the nightstand next to your berth and pick up another toy. Far smaller than the last one, but still sizable to Swerve. You run the head of this new false spike through his valve folds and he shivers, bracing himself and trying to control his charge. At a snail's pace, you push the toy into his valve, then stop once it's three quarters of the way inside of him.

He didn't know what to expect, but what you did after was not it. You reel your servo back and land a smack squarely on the base of the toy. The remainder of the length shot into him and he jolted, almost falling out of your lap with a cry. His valve cycled down and tried fruitlessly to milk the toy, though you pressed two digits to the base of it and pushed it against him in short little pulses. That alone was enough to drive him mad.

“Master, Master, please stop!” He sobbed, “I’m too close, I can’t!” His stout spike throbbed against your thigh, smearing lubricant on your plating. You relent and remove your servo, pleased that he at least told you this time. He breathed out a shaky vent of relief as you gave him a moment to rest and recollect his thoughts, but no more than a moment. You soon start with what you had intended to do when you’d thrown him over your lap.

A solid slap to the back of his aft has him yelping, visor flickering. His servos scrambled to grab hold of the berthsheets to brace himself the best he could, but your blows only got more intense.

By the third his plating is hot and stinging. On the fourth you switch it up and land the hit on the base of the toy again. You pay no mind to his shocked wail, randomizing your slaps to keep him guessing. You lose count after twenty, but shortly after, he’s sobbing.

“Master, I-I’m close again, you- you have to stop,” He doesn’t cry it out like before, his voice is breathy and wobbly, and you take pity by that. Your servo meets his aft again, but not with any force. You allow it to rest there and gently stroke over his heated plating and stinging senors. He whines, it feels like fire and sandpaper, but he’s still glad that you’re touching him. Calming down from his sobbing and shaking, his voice mellows to soft whimpers of your title, his frame still shivering ever so slightly, but you suspect that that is from the charge that’s coursing through him.

"You took your punishment so well, puppy." You purr and he whines in response. You feel his spike throb against your leg, but he makes no move to grind on you. "You should get a reward, now, hm?"

He perks up at this, if just a little. Seems like you've thoroughly worn him out. You pick him up and move him, as gently as you can, to set him down next to you. With your servos tenderly petting him and caressing his face, he melts into your touch, everything in his processor focusing on your servos on his frame.

“For your reward, you can spike me.” You say. As soon as the words leave your lips, he perks up, then almost shrinks back away from you after a brief moment. “Is something wrong, puppy?”

“You don’t- you don’t just want to use my valve instead?” He asks, almost requesting that you accept.

“Do you not want to use your spike?” You shoot back. His face glows with his blushing, and he looks like he wants to sink into his plating like a turtle.

“I’m… I’m too close already,” He mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. “I won’t be able to make you feel good…”  
Your servo strokes soothingly over his belly, easing his processor just a bit.

“You think that I hadn’t thought of that, pup?” You say. “That’s okay, besides, all that transfluid belongs inside me. We can’t let it waste, right?”

He nods nervously and you pick a position, laying on your back and spreading your legs. His gaze finds your slick valve, eyeing it as if it was divine. Shakily, he crawls between your legs. The first brush of his spike head against your folds has him flinching back. Slowly, barely creeping forward, he pushes the first half of his length into you before his frame is wracked with tremors from the charge that rushes through him, reawakened at the feeling of something around his spike. He whines and bites his lip.

“You’re doing so well, puppy,” You sigh, your voice breathy and light. Just those words coming from you are enough to have another hard shiver race down his spine. “I can’t wait to have you overloading in me. Do you think it’ll be enough to make my belly swell?”

He eases forward again, bottoming out, his plating flush with yours. He immediately collapses onto your front, more than eager to be able to lay against you. You simply pet him, encouraging him to continue.

Each of his shaky thrusts is accompanied by a sob or a whimper or a moan, just some form of testament to how good you make him feel. You can tell by the creeping pace he takes, and by the trembling in his frame, that he is trying desperately to stave off his overload.

“Come on, Swerve, overload inside me.” You tell him, snapping him out of whatever he was doing in his processor to try to make himself last longer. Your legs wrap around him and give him a light squeeze, “Be a good puppy.”

That’s all it takes to convince him to move. His hips rock and rut, and in no time he’s overloading hard into you, his jaw dropping in a cry as he slams into you. Spike throbbing with each heavy spurt of transfluid, pump after pump in a seemingly never ending climax, he fills you to the brim. You hear his voice, garbled with static, but you can make out variations of your title, your name,

“Thank you”, and “I love you” in the babbling. You belly does grow a tad rounder at the fullness of his transfluid.

Panting and whimpering, he leans up only to be met with the image of you, laid beneath him with your valve filled with his transfluid. He groans and bites his lip, looking away. You can feel his spike, still stiff in your valve, give another twitch.

“You can keep going, pup.” Your servo rubs your belly for emphasis. He doesn’t waste any time this round, immediately thrusting into you with renewed energy. His spike glides easily in the mess of transfluid and lubricant that he is at fault for. It’s an intoxicating feeling for him and you, and you feel yourself nearing your own climax at the wild rutting of his spike inside of you.

“M-Master!” He hiccups, “Please, can I- mmh, frag- can I overload inside you again?” Your servo presses against his back, holding him down against you,

"Do it, Swerve, keep filling me up!" You pant out. He can barely hold back another second before he slams into you, spike throbbing as it gives another hot load of his transfluid. If your optics weren’t squeezed shut in your own climax, you would’ve seen the dazed look he was giving you once he came down from his own overload. Your valve clenches around his spike, your chamber tightening and forcing out rivulets of his transfluid, dripping down your mesh and dirtying the berth.

Worn, he lets his engine purr as he leans against you, careful of your overfull belly. He slowly pulls his spike from you, followed by a thick gush of his transfluid that puddles in the well of the berth padding beneath you.

“Such a good boy,” You chuckle, out of breath and as tired as he is. Your servos find his paw mitts, and begin undoing them and removing them; he extends his arm and allows you access. “You want to go get cleaned up? Take a nice bath?”

You ask him after every one of your play sessions, and he always responds the same way: with a shy nod, looking down and off to the side, as if he were afraid of asking you to do more for him that you already had. Each time you tell him that you are more than happy to do these things for him, but he still gives the same answer.

“I’ll go get the bath running, and we can get some treats from the cabinet while we wait, okay?” Your servo cups his cheek and he nods into it. As shaky as your legs are, you can still get up to go and get everything ready.

Walking to the berthroom door, you turn to see the soft, happy look from him that you only get in moments like this. You know you’d do anything to keep seeing that face.

**Author's Note:**

> It doesn't mater if yall like this, because I liked writing it and that's what's important


End file.
